Scaevola
by Meddwl
Summary: AU. Miraz tries to avoid the duel and the war, but he reckons without Narnian courage or the love of a King for his people. How can a usurper and a murderer understand what it means to be a King of Narnia?


**Nota Bene:** Scaevola is Latin for one-handed. This was inspired by the old Roman legend that belongs to the name and is for Psyche (of Rose and Psyche fame) since she was the catalyst for my mixing of Narnia and Rome. I borrowed the whole first quote straight from Lewis. I was so sad that they changed it in the movie.

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 **Scaevola**

 _"Mucius, crying: 'See how cheap men hold their bodies when they care only for honor!'  
thrust his right hand into the firewhich had been kindled for a sacrifice,  
and let it burn there as if he were unconscious of the pain."_  
 _― Livy_

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"...by the hand of our well-beloved and royal brother Edmund, sometime King under us in Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste and Count of the Western March, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table, to whom we have given full power of determining with your Lordship all the conditions of the said battle. Given at our lodging in Aslan's How this XII day of the month Greenroof in the first year of Caspian Tenth of Narnia."

Miraz was amused, even nonchalant as he looked the boy in front of him over.

Tall and wiry, wise grey eyes and long slender hands, one resting aggressively upon the hilt of his sword. But still a boy, a child younger than his foolish nephew.

He could continue starving the upstart rebels until they lapsed back into nonexistence or he could fight the duel. He had no doubts about winning, these boy-kings had no chance against a grown warrior.

Or he could forgo both and take the third choice that this so-called High King had so graciously delivered into his hands.

He chose the third.

Glenstorm and Wimbleweather fought well but Miraz had expected that. He had not expected the boy-king to fight like a cornered wolf. Perhaps there was some truth in those old tales of the Golden Age after all. He was very glad that he had chosen to circumvent the duel, for he was no longer sure that he could have fought off this boy's brother.

He lost more men than he could have wished in their taking but it was well worth the effort.

The Giant was slumped on the ground, bound and unconscious, the Centaur was bound likewise and the King, the King was bruised and bleeding but alive, unbound with a sword at his back before Miraz.

Miraz smiled and opened his mouth but King Edmund was faster.

"My brother will never trade me for the Narnians" he said gravely. No child should have been so solemn and fearless at once. Miraz shivered against his will.

He swallowed.

"Are you sure?"

The King smiled slightly.

"It has been tried before, it did not work than and it will not work now."

There was a man's soul in that young body, a greater man than Miraz and he knew it. But he fought against it.

"You would die for them?" he asked.

"I am their King" he said simply, "You would not die for your people?"

"Having two kings at once is foolish, you and your brother share your power but why do you fight for Caspian? Surely three kings are too many even for your Talking Demons and Horse and Goat Men?" he asked suddenly.

Edmund stared for a moment, and then he did laugh. Heartily.

"Surely even you heard of the Four?" he said, "We ruled together under the High King and under Aslan. But we do not fight to rule Narnia but to give it into King Caspian's care. You cannot comprehend why we fight Miraz for you are not a King. We ask no power or glory, our time is gone. We fight for Narnia and Aslan, to the death if need be."

Miraz struck him.

"You would die so that another might rule" he said slowly, "Truly, I do not understand you for it is foolish. But would you suffer for these people of yours? Would your High King fight still if he knew that you died slowly as a consequence?"

There was steel in the stern grey eyes that judged him unkingly and craven.

"Gladly I would suffer for them. Truly you know naught of kingship even by hearsay. They will only fight the harder and crush you if you continue to defile this truce."

Before the guard could move, the King thrust his right hand into the brazier that stood burning there. Miraz blanched at the sight.

The Narnian King's hand was fully immersed in the coals, smoke wreathing up about his arm, his jaw clenched against the pain but his eyes were bright and hard.

"Do you understand now?" he gasped, "I will not see the Narnians fall beneath you and neither will my brother or sisters. Nor will Caspian. Do your worst, Lord Protector and more Narnians will give their lives but we will see our land free of you. I am not alone and Aslan will not let us fail."

Miraz looked into the glittering, pained eyes and he knew it was true. He who stood before him burning away his own hand like so much dross was a King, the king of a people who would see his boast proven.

He looked towards the Centaur. Glenstorm glared back undaunted and he knew that if necessary he would sacrifice his hand also without hesitation.

If Miraz had been a courageous or clever man Edmund might have died there as Miraz had promised. But where a courageous king would have fought on despite the threat or a clever man wiggle out somehow, Miraz was only afraid, frankly and utterly terrified.

Even giving up Narnia did not seem too great a price. If this was kingship, to give everything for your people, to be the lowest of their servants and their greatest fortress, to live and laugh and die for them then he would not be king. Not in Narnia.

There was no duel after all and neither did Miraz starve out the Narnians. But a goodly portion of his men choose to bow to Caspian.

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"I wonder" said Edmund as they stood before Aslan ready to return to England, "I wonder, does my hand get replaced when we leave Narnia?"


End file.
